


Semi-Mephistophelian Beings

by annplatan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hinata and his spirit friends, M/M, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 01:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4646652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annplatan/pseuds/annplatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata is psychic and Kageyama's a lonely spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Semi-Mephistophelian Beings

**Author's Note:**

> First Kagehina fanfic!  
> Sorry if it doesn't make any sense, that's just how it has to be.

Hinata couldn't get to sleep.

 

 

Ever since his grandmother died, he could see what was hidden. What wanted to remain hidden; what shouldn't be seen. When he was little dark shadows would occasionally linger beside him on the street, glaring at him.

He was five when a man with a burnt face sat next to his mother on the couch. He was frowning at her. His face scarred with ugly red, yellow puss mixed with blood oozing from the deformation that defined his being. 

"Mommy who's that?" Hintata pointed to where he sat.

"Who?". His mother couldn't see him.

The man with the burnt face followed him around for a few years. Compared to the other spirits, he had a human shape, persona. Hinata felt more comfortable with him than the other apparitions that stalked him. As he grew into his teen years, Hinata would speak to him, things that he could've kept private, to himself; but he decided that there was no harm done in speaking to the man with the burnt face. Any problems at school, girls he liked, fears, worries were all voiced and Hinata didn't have to grow up the type of teenager with pent-up feelings.

He got to be cheerful and mostly stress free. He joined his high-school's volleyball team, found away to waste excess energy and made friends he cherished in his earlier years.

He didn't know if the man with the burnt face could hear him and most of the time whenever Hinata spoke to him, the ghost wouldn't look at him; it would often gaze at the photographs on the wall, the vase with flowers, or outside through the windows. But sometimes he could swear that the man was looking right at him, a stare that bored into his soul. He never answered to anything, or spoke or made any sound. Sometimes Hinata wondered if he was a figment of his imagination.

The man with the burnt face was never there during the night, he always disappeared or wandered off before dark. 

Before Hinata first saw him, there were monsters under his bed, things that would whisper in his ear in a language that he couldn't comprehend. Nights would be spent trembling under his blankets, on the other side of the duvet: a terrible darkness with no discernible facial features. His nights as a small child were filled with terror and unimaginable anxiety.

When he was four, he once needed to use the toilette. The large clock in his room told him it was the middle of the night. He opened the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed and he shuffled from under the covers. He looked around his room and when he was sure there weren't any dubious shadows lazing around, he got out of bed and opened the door that revealed the hallway. He didn't open the lights on the way to the toilette, as to not wake his mother. He finished his business and after closing the imposingly fluorescent light of the bathroom, made on his way back to the bedroom. Just as he was about to close the door he heard a heavy thump come from the hallway. He peeked from behind the door, had the light from his lamp helped his vision, but he didn't see anything and turned around to look around his room.                              He was met with a ghastly white face. It's eyes screamed blood red and its mouth was open, a black fissure to whisper "die".                               He couldn't screamed because a frigid hand strangled him. There was a black substance drooling from it's still opened mouth, it was like gasoline and the smell made the child in the monster's hold gag.

He opened his eyes ten days later, in a dull hospital bed and he gasped for air upon awakening. His throat hurt, a dark bruise encircling his neck. His mother cried when she saw him, but he laughed it off saying that it was like a cool tattoo. The bruise faded, but never entirely. 

All of that stopped when he met the man with the burnt face; and when he left, Hinata suffered tenfold.

One day, sometime after Hinata turned sixteen, the man with the burnt face just didn't appear. However something came in it's stead. Hinata never saw it's embodiment, but he could feel the presence everywhere around him. He started having severe breathing problems and his mother found him waking at late hours crying, screaming and chanting in ungodly speech.

 

 

But now Hinata couldn't get to sleep.

 

Twenty-six years old saw him a professional spiritualist, a psychic. His family and friends thought he'd starve to death in his particular line of work, but it was surprising how many sought him. He did palm readings, talked to dead relatives, seances and on a few occasions, consulted for people who believed they were haunted.

He found that the more you involve yourself with the occult, the more you acknowledge it, the more it affected you. The thing that followed him around, Hinata called it  _The Manifestation._ He could feel it getting stronger with every job he got, every consultation. If he stayed very still and quiet in his house, he could hear a hushed static around him; where _The Manifestation_ resided.

 

But the past few days, he couldn't hear or feel it anymore. Even now, as he lay still in bed, there was nothing. He was so used to there always being  _something_ in the room with him, he was never truly by himself. He shifted multiple times in the sheets, attempting to find a suitable position to fall asleep in. The sound of his breathing was all he could hear and he started giggling when he realised that he was lonely.  _  
_

Tomorrow he had an appointment with a Mrs Kageyama. Apparently she wanted to talk to her son that died ten ago, little Tobio.

He needed sleep so he could help her, and him. It must've took a few hours but Hinata managed to fall asleep, what he dreamed of, he wouldn't be able to tell you.

 

She lived a few hours away by train, but Hinata spent that time sleeping, the rocking motion lulled him into sweet slumber.

A tall woman with straight jet-black hair, maybe in her fifties, opened the door.

Hinata smiled as he introduced himself: "Hello there Mrs Kageyama. I'm Hinata Shouyo!". The sun came up and Hinata could see deep, blue eyes.

She welcomed him in and led him to a living room, she sat in a cushioned arm chair and motioned that he sit in one similar. The chairs were opposite each other, with a taller coffee table separating them.

"Mrs Kageyama, I'm going to firstly ask you a few questions, if it's alright.". She nodded and Hinata proceeded.

"Have you ever attempted contacting your son before?". She shacked her head.

"Why now?".

It took a while for her to find an answer, she stared at her hands that layed in her lap. 

"It took me few years to acknowledge t my boy's death as a reality. After some time I came to accept it. He died fast, there was no suffering and I was comforted in the idea that he had a gentle passing.

"I was never one to really care of life after death; but when he died, just to make sure he was alright, I started praying for him. I'd like to think that he  _ **is**_ somewhere and that he's content wherever that may be. This is what helped me accept his loss. I was content with that as long as he was ok."  

She looked up at him and Hinata felt a shudder startle down his spine as he recognised fear in her eyes.

"But I can feel something in the house, it's not unpleasant or anything. It's just there sometimes, a different air. I thought I was being paranoid because I never really saw something, but I feel that there is someone here, with me." she smiled.

"But if it's him, does that mean that he's not happy where he was, does he want something?".

 

Hinata was reluctant to tell her that it might not be her son that was near her. Things from other planes that mean harm usually target those who are lonely and emotionally vulnerable. Something might have clung to her that shouldn't have.

"Do you have any visible bruises, marks that just seem to appear out of the blue?". Mrs Kageyama shook her head 'no'.

"Do you feel this....umm.. _presence_..follow you into your room. It's your bedroom that's important.".

"I don't think so, if I think about it, that's one of the only places I feel alone.". Her face twisted in worry. "Is there something wrong?".

Hinata couldn't see or feel anything, which was a first for him. He wondered if Mrs Kageyama was just imagining things, but it didn't seem the case. Be there something wrong, Hinata will investigate. He told the mother of Kageyama Tobio to close her eyes and not open them until he tells her to. She did so and Hinata let his lids fall leadenly over his eyes; he clutched the armrests for support. 

 

He opened his eyed to the quasi-plane. The pseudo reality. Looking over to the mother, he saw her boy next to her, **not clung** to her. Hinata sighed in relief when he saw the beautiful, tall teen with short straight, jet black hair and Sapphire eyes that seemed somehow clouded. 'Why were you hiding from me?'

Hinata whispered as if he were comforting a lost child and smiled softly. 'I couldn't see you.'

The teen, dead at sixteen, stared at him. The quasi-plane was darker and everything seemed to move slower, as if underwater. Hinata's body often felt weak here, the few hours of sleep were taking their toll. He wondered why the boy had now just started to appear near his mother. If he wasn't sucking her life-force and didn't plaster himself to her, it seemed unlikely that it would torment her after this much time had passed. What was his motive? Was he just there to watch over her? He could do that from a nicer place- heaven, somewhere the dead belonged, a realm of the not-living; not the quasi-plane.

'What's wrong?' he said half to the boy, half to himself.

Kageyama Tobio started towards him, considering that spirits seldom leave the side of the living-soul of interest, Hinata was taken aback when Kageyama sat himself on the armrest. Very close to Hinata. The red-head quickly moved his arm out of the way so the the handsome youth could sit and gasped when his arm was gripped. 

 

It happened often before, but after  _The Manifestation_ appeared no beings of the occult dared touch him.

 

A polar hand gripped his left forearm and the other dead hand went to play with Hinata's left hand, stroking the pale skin with long, graceful fingers. Kageyama looked peaceful as he played with him, preoccupied.

The sudden contact had Hinata trembling, the touch of death was something that brought unsettling images to mind. Shaking, tears rolled down cheeks and Kageyama looked up at him, a stare to pierce his soul.

'I'm sorry' Hinata choked out. 'I don't mind keeping you company but I'm still a bit scared'. Even if Kageyama proved to be a gentle spirit, Hinata saw a dark ambivalence as eyes gleamed intense cobalt.

 

He told Mrs Kageyama to cherish the memory of her late son, to not be afraid to hang up pictures to remember him by and know that her son was watching over her, meaning to do her no harm.

 

 

The nights after that quick consultation were vague, and Hinata seemed to have holes in his memory when trying to think what he did earlier during the day. One night he woke, gasping for air, and went to get a glass of water. He woke up the next morning sprawled on the floor, with a blanket covering him; his head dizzy with something that smelled like sweat, but more pleasant.

Four days after meeting the mother and her son, Hinata opened his eyes one night to find himself entangled in white sheets. And instead of pyjamas, he was wearing only his skin, instead of the familiar darkness, a violent red glow had the room illuminated everywhere. The scent that Hinata woke up to the other day lingered in the air of the enclosure and the red-head inhaled gluttonously. Kageyama was sitting on the bed, next to him, wearing a oxblood robe and a transparent mug in his hand.

He was turned to lie on his back. Kageyama's palm lifted the back of his neck. The mug was pressed against his lips, but Hinata refused to open his mouth, his situation was dangerous and it was never wise to accept food or drink in the quasi-plane. When he didn't comply the liquid was scorched on his chest and when he parted his lips to screech in pain, all that came out was a soft reverberation from his throat. Lifeless palms cupped his face and he was pulled into a soft kiss, strands of raven hair brushing against his forehead.

Kageyama pulled back and stared at him with

dark, dead eyes.

'What's wrong?' Hinata croaked out, his throat was dry as if he had not had drink for weeks. 'What can I do to help you?'. He reached his arm towards those

sad, sombre eyes. 

Live hand met with dead and their their fingers interlaced. He was pulled into another kiss and Hinata felt a liquid seep down his oesophagus when he opened his mouth to deepen the contact. Something like a spark ignited and the kiss gradually became deeper, a fever was growing hotter. Hinata opened his eyes in alarm when he realised what was going on; why Kageyama came back.

'oh', his alarm softened with understanding and he was overwhelmed with an exaggerated sadness, he couldn't say why he started crying. The tears cooled down his hot face.

'oh....oh no.'. The tears strolled down his cheeks, past his chin and neck, finally staining the white sheets under them.

 

Kageyama had been lonely after death, as many were and still are.

Even the slightest bit of unease, regrets can merge over time into something awful. Hate, anger fuel the dead's desire for something more. Kageyama most likely yearned for life, something he once possessed; something that was now impossible to obtain.

Blinded by lust for life; Hinata could understand why Kageyama targeted the person he thought he could negotiate with or if it comes down it, someone who he could steal life from.

 

Running down his throat, the fluid was thick. Hinata pushed the boy roughly from him and coughed, chocked out black. He could still feel it greased on his tongue: the sheets, a palette of tears mingled with black. Hinata was trembling, his mind distracted by the god-awful smell that surrounded them, his very being, was screaming. He was in state of panic, his body unable to move or flee.

'No. You can't.' he pleaded. 'I'm sorry; you can't. Don't. Please, leave me alone.'.

 

_'Yes. I can_

_'I'm sorry; I will. Sorry._

The eyes staring at him went dead black and Hinata thought that this is what might have been haunting him these recent years, the uncertainty.

The uncertainty that ended up being a foreboding. The Manifestation of a warning.  

 

_'Forgive me, for I will not leave you alone.'_

 


End file.
